


Her King's Proper Place

by vivilove



Series: Beddings at Winterfell [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Babies, Childbirth, F/M, Love, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Sansa goes into labor while Jon is away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 2nd follow-up of A Bedding at Winterfell

The fire burned brightly and every flat surface had been covered with candles to provide as much light as possible on the dark night. Sansa was sweating from the pain and effort more than the heat of the fire though. The maester was sweating from nerves apparently. He mumbled out that he had not actually assisted with a birth in years. _That might have_ _been better to tell me earlier…or waited until later to share at this point_. The ladies at her side were frustrating her to no small degree either. Neither had ever given birth before as they were both still maids and had no experience attending a birthing _. They have no business here truly_. But, these were minor irritations compared to the pain and the fear. _It’s too soon_ , she thought with unease before she shuddered with the pain again.

“Bear down, Your Grace,” the maester commanded from between her legs.

Sansa did as he bid her once more. It hurt but it felt better than lying there doing nothing as she’d been doing previously. But she was already tired…so very tired now.

She was nearly eight moons gone and she held back frustrated tears as she railed silently to the gods that she should’ve had more time. She’d received word from Jon a fortnight ago that he was on his way back from Dragonstone. She’d been overjoyed. He would be home before it was time she had thought. She had thought wrong. The babe was coming now, earlier than expected and it filled her with fear. _What if the babe_ …She could not even finish the thought.

 

Ghost had been at her heels since dawn, stalking her everywhere and irritable when she would try and send him off. _He knew…even if we did not._ Sansa had been eating in the hall that evening when the pains first struck. Brienne had been at her side at once when Sansa had gasped loudly. Ghost snarled silently at her side until she stroked his fur and comforted him. At first, she had dismissed them as passing pains. She had had a few of those the past couple of moons. But the pains increased and continued in frequency and strength. When she asked Brienne to help her to her chambers, she felt a gush of liquid between her thighs as she stood. It was then that panic had ripped through her calm outward demeanor and reduced her to sobs.

“My lady!” Brienne had screamed as Sansa sank to the floor, the tears falling fast.

Strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her. She immediately thought of Jon but these arms were even stronger than her husband’s and he did not smell like Jon did. Tormund Giantsbane held her firmly and told Brienne to lead the way to Sansa’s chambers.

“I want my mother,” she had cried against his shoulder. _Mother is dead, you foolish girl._ But neither Brienne nor Tormund called her a fool for her words. “I need Jon here,” she wailed next.

“I know, my lady. I’ll get the maester. You’ll be fine,” Brienne had said apparently trying to reassure herself as much as Sansa.

They reached her chambers with Ghost on Tormund’s heels. Tormund had looked down on her before leaving. “Try and rest easy, girl. I’ll be back,” he said before he’d left. That had been two hours ago.

Ghost fretted in the corner, snapping at nothing on occasion. He was clearly discontent and yet he would not leave. The maester kept telling her when to push but didn’t seem satisfied with her efforts. Sansa felt so woefully inadequate for this task and wondered how her mother had ever managed it five times. She recalled Cersei’s words about the most magical parts of life often being the messiest. It had been so confusing then but she now had to admit that, for all of Cersei’s faults, she knew what she was talking about there. _She never mentioned the terror though_ , Sansa thought and wondered if Cersei Lannister had ever been afraid like this.

“You’re doing very well, my lady,” the maester said in a terrible attempt at breezy confidence.

_It doesn’t seem that way_ , Sansa thought. “I’m trying,” she said, grimacing with the strain. The maester glanced up and met her eyes as the pain passed again and Sansa saw the worry in his eyes. _He doubts himself. He doubts I can do this, too_. “We will present the king with his child when he returns, won’t we, maester?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the grey man said and shifted his gaze back down between her legs.

 

Tormund did not return to the chamber but he sent a wildling woman. Once she arrived and announced that she had given birth to four children of her own and attended several births, Sansa dismissed the sweet but useless girls from the room. _At least she is a reasonable choice to attend the maester and me and will not blanche at what she sees_.

Not long after, there was a sudden commotion from the hall as Sansa heard one of her ladies, who had evidently taken up residence outside the door, practically screeching at someone.

“Oh, no…Your Grace! You mustn’t go in there! You can’t!”

But he could and he did. Nothing would keep him from her and Sansa’s heart filled with joy and love when Jon burst into the room ignoring the silly girl in the doorway and made his way to her. He crossed the large room to her in three strides and knelt by the bed. He cradled her cheek with his gloved hand before he quickly yanked both of his gloves off and tossed his cloak to the floor and then touched her face once more.

“Sansa…” he murmured with such love and concern.

Her eyes filled with tears. She did not mean to cry at him and she winced to see the pain on his face when he saw her tears. She wanted to speak and reassure him that it was merely her joy in having him here that was making her cry but the pains struck again and her words were twisted into a grunt of pain.

“Again, your Grace,” the maester commanded, looking up for just a moment at the king.

The tears of happiness that had formed in her eyes spilled over her cheeks and she tried to squash the moan of anguish that was tripping past her lips as she pushed. Jon glanced from her face, down to the maester and back again to her. His handsome face was etched with misery and worry. Sansa grasped his warm hand and squeezed it. He smiled then and whispered that he loved her.

“You are so brave and strong, Sansa. I know you can do this,” he said pressing his forehead against the top of her head.

“Good, my lady. That was good. You’re doing well,” the maester said with a bit more confidence this time. “Rest until the next pain comes.”

“Jon…I…” she croaked from her parched throat. The wildling woman handed Jon a cup of water which he helped her to drink. “I’m so glad you’re here, my love,” she finally managed to say.

“I’m sorry I was not here sooner. I nearly rode my horse to death today. I left the rest of the party far behind trying to reach you in time.”

“Why? You couldn’t have known.”

Jon looked at her intently with his serious, brown eyes and then glanced meaningfully at Ghost still fretting in his corner. Sansa’s eyes widened in momentary surprise when she took his meaning. She had suspected it for a while now but she had tried to dismiss her suspicions as ridiculous. She would never doubt the depth of their bond again. She wondered briefly if she and Lady would’ve been able to develop that kind of a bond given time. The pain returned though and such musings were overcome by the immediate task at hand.

 

Since Jon’s arrival the time had passed more swiftly and Sansa was not so afraid now. She had just passed through another round of pain and pushing when the maester said, “I’m touching the head, my lady. When the pains return, I will ask you to keep pushing even after the pains ceases. Once the head is clear, the rest should follow quickly and the babe will be here soon.”

Sansa was panting with the effort and sweating even more than earlier but now she knew she could do this. She rested against Jon to save her strength for the final effort and nodded at the maester’s words. The wildling woman, Nalla, had suggested Jon move onto the bed. She had him sit behind Sansa and the support and change of position seemed to help. If the maester objected to Nalla’s suggestion, he said nothing. Jon had removed his armor and stripped down to just his tunic and breeches before climbing on the bed. She had tried to ask how his journey had went at one point, how the meeting with his aunt had gone, but he had only whispered that now was not the time to discuss such trivial matters. She had smiled at his words and leaned her cheek towards him for a kiss.

When the pains returned, Sansa bore down with all her might but, as the fatigue caused her efforts to flag, the maester and Nalla shouted at her to keep going. Their terse demands caused Jon to yell at them both to be silent and leave her be. Sansa smiled at his protectiveness but knew they were only trying to help her get through this, just as he would defend her from anyone who suggested she wasn’t trying her best. She gritted her teeth and renewed her efforts. She tried to muffle the scream tearing at her throat as the maester said the head was crowning and he kept clucking at her to not let up.

“You don’t have to be silent and hold it in, my love. I imagine it is nearly unbearable. Scream all you like,” Jon whispered in her ear. “I’ll have the head of anyone who tries to shush you.”

And, Sansa screamed as she pushed.

 

“A boy, milady,” Nalla said as the maester finished his work between her legs. “A fine boy.”

Once the cord was cut, Nalla gave the babe a quick wipe down and laid him upon her stomach. He was a bit small perhaps but healthy it would seem given the piercing wail he was emitting at the moment. He was still a little bloody and his skin was red and wrinkled. His head was lightly covered in dark, downy hair. His tiny eyes were closed and his hands were fisted as he screamed in protest at this new place he did not know but Sansa had never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Our son,” she breathed to Jon as she reached down to pull him up to her chest. “Oh, Jon…I don’t know if I could’ve done it without you here.”

“Well, it’s all my fault you were here having to do this. Being here was the least I could do,” he said with a chuckle. His bravado disappeared when he reached a hand down to stroke his son’s cheek though. Sansa heard his breath catch and a small sigh before he spoke again. “I almost missed it,” he whispered.

“But you didn’t. You’re here,” she said as the babe turned his little mouth towards Jon’s finger.

“He’s hungry,” Nalla said as the babe’s mouth closed on his father’s finger. “You’ll want to try and nurse him now.”

“Yes,” Sansa agreed but, as she awkwardly tried to pull the babe to her breast, she felt uncertain as to what to do. She had been a very young girl when she had last watched her mother nursing her younger brothers and Catelyn Stark had always seemed so at ease then, as though it were the easiest thing in the world.

“Here, milady,” Nalla said as she competently rearranged the babe’s body and helped guide Sansa as to what to do. “There…it takes a bit ‘o practice for new mothers and babes but you’ll get the hang of it soon enough,” she said with a smile.

Sansa grasped the woman’s hand and said, “Thank you. You’ve been so wonderful.”

“You’re very welcome. This man,” she said pointing at Jon, “saved me and my girls when he brought his ships to Hardhome. That’s a debt I’ve not forgotten I owed and when Tormund said you needed an experienced woman to attend you, I volunteered at once.”

She left them soon after and serving women had come to help the maester clean away the rest of the blood and afterbirth.

“I’ll send women to help bathe you and the babe shortly, Your Grace,” the maester said as he turned to leave them in peace for a moment with their child.

Jon thanked the maester as he held her to him and watched her feed their son. Once they were alone, Sansa sighed with happiness and relief now as their child suckled at her breast and her husband held her against his chest. And, Ghost was snoring loudly in his corner now, apparently exhausted by his own efforts and worries.

 

* * *

 

 

Five nights later, Jon was holding their little one by the fire when Sansa woke. The babe was whining and Sansa knew he would start wailing if she waited much longer. She suppressed a groan of exhaustion, knowing she would soon be called upon to feed him. She relished lying there though and watching Jon gaze down on his child with such love. She stayed quiet when she heard him speaking.

“Little Ned, you must let your mother rest some at least. She is still healing and so tired. I know, I know…you’re hungry, aren’t you? I don’t blame you for preferring her arms to mine but can’t you lay quiet here for a just a few minutes?” Jon pleaded with the restless babe.

He was tired, too. He had had an arduous journey for nearly three moons to Dragonstone and back before returning to her side. Since his return, he had stayed by her side and attended her and their child as best as he could. He had confided in her that his meeting with Daenerys Targaryen had not gone horribly but not exactly well either. Jon said she did not seem to believe him to be her brother Rhaegar’s son and scoffed at his talk of White Walkers.  He said she had been strangely put out when she’d learned that he was already married. If Jon was perplexed by that, Sansa was not. A marriage alliance with the King in the North would’ve strengthened her position in her attempt to conquer Westeros. That her nephew was also a handsome and honorable man and close to her in age would’ve made the match all the more desirable to the Dragon Queen. He had marveled at her ‘children’ though. He’d loved tales of dragons as a boy and Sansa thought it was sweet to see his eyes light up when he spoke of the queen’s three grown dragons. But, the look in his eyes as he gazed at their son was infinitely sweeter.

Sansa stifled a giggle as she watched him gently rocking their son and making silly faces at the babe as he paced around the room. She didn’t want him to know she was watching them…not yet. She heard the babe coo and saw Jon’s face change from the ridiculous expression it was wearing to a look of total adoration. It melted her heart in ways she’d never expected. After all she had lived through in Kings Landing as the captive of lions, the anxious and confused times at the Eyrie under Littlefinger’s thumb and the horrors she had endured with Ramsey, she thought her heart might have turned to stone. It hadn’t. She still loved and cared for others but it was Jon that had brought joy to her life again. He had won her heart with his sweet love and care. He had coaxed her into their bed with his gentle touch and whispered endearments and shown her what loving between a man and woman was supposed to be. He had married her and made her his queen but he made her so much more than that. He made her feel necessary and important. He considered her his equal and valued her counsel when so many kings might ignore their wives outside the marriage bed.

“There you go now. Sleep, my good boy. Let your mama rest. I fear she will _never_ let me touch her again if you persist in keeping her awake day and night, little man.”

Sansa laughed aloud then and Jon turned towards her, startled to find her watching and that he had been heard. His swift move caused the nearly sleeping babe to rouse and cry out.

“Bring him here,” she said as her laughter died down. Ned was soon suckling contentedly and Jon sat down next to her smiling as he watched them both. “I promise you’ll get to touch me again as soon as the maester says I’m healed,” she whispered.

Jon Snow did not blush so easily but he blushed now and Sansa relished seeing his cheeks pink. She leaned against him and closed her eyes.

“I don’t want to be gone next time,” he murmured against her temple.

“I don’t want that either but we have no control over that,” she answered quietly. “It’s alright, Jon. If I must do this without you next time, I know that I can now…so long as you always remember your proper place.”

“My proper place?” he asked. “When I was a boy, my proper place was down from the high table at feasts and out in the stables even at times.”

“That was never your proper place. That was my mother’s place for you. Your proper place is here by my side…always.”

He kissed her brow and stroked her cheek before looking once more at the now sleeping child.

“Aye, Sansa, I like it here. This is where I want to be… _always_.”


End file.
